


Banika

by jeanquirieplus (wireless), wireless



Series: Snippets from Banika [1]
Category: The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-02
Updated: 2010-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wireless/pseuds/jeanquirieplus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wireless/pseuds/wireless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie might be going a bit crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banika

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed again. I have a whole bunch of these little snippets, so I'm going to be posting them over the next few days. Not sure what bit me but this pairing just won't leave me alone.

They're stationed for R&amp;R on private piece of hell called Banika that's entirely infested with giant crabs. As far as he can tell, this place counts as "R&amp;R" because no one's actively trying to kill them, but Eddie feels that the higher ups are giving the Nips a run for their money. In fact, some fool replacement in another company got shot in the knee a few days ago because the boys have taken to using the crabs as target practice and it was bound to happen. He saw one of the awful things scuttle by yesterday with "Tojo" scrawled over its carapace and wondered if Fuckface had managed to escape. Everyone's going stir crazy. Gloucester was bad, but at least they had a semblance of purpose over there, under the rain. And there weren't any crabs. Back where Eddie's from crabs are for eating, but these sons of bitches don't look particularly edible and that may be the biggest disappointment of them all.

He suspects the skipper is trying to keep him entertained so he won't peck himself to death, not that it's working. Ack-Ack's put him in charge of the drinks detail, and while the novelty of overseeing soft-drink shipment receipts instead of throwing kids into hails of bullets is a little jarring, on balance Eddie is mostly relieved. His is going to be the best damn hydrated company is the entire PTO. It gives him something to think about while he battles the urge to order the enlisted to stop calling him "sir". He's decided not to worry about it until the replacements shift to calling him "mom".

He starts bribing the supply officers with song requests and the sudden influx of extremely decent beer earns him endless brownie points with the men, which in turn makes Ack-Ack smile and he'll be damned if that hasn't become his only consistent motivator in this hell-hole.

Once it got out he could play everyone wanted a song, of course. Eddie's real glad to oblige, anything to make the men forget they're sore done for here, but he's taken to hiding in the supply tents for an hour every day to clear his head. He loves the boys, but they tend to follow him around like so many pigeons after a lunch pail, and the constant scratching at the strings makes his nail beds bleed and poor Caroline needs her beauty sleep every once in a while. He's already had to tie back three of her strings because he can't figure out how to replace them (some concessions have to be made to the fact that they are, after all, in the middle of a war zone).

He's sitting on a crate of Coca-Cola (the pause that refreshes, supposedly, but nothing stays cold for very long here) half-heartedly strumming Caroline when Ack-Ack wanders in through the tent-flap with a list in his hands. He stands in front of the crates and Eddie gets the rare privilege of being able to observe him entirely unselfconsciously. Skipper's face is drawn like he hasn't been sleeping well, and his shirt is soaked through with sweat in several places. Eddie's eyes linger on the strong curve of his jaw then the soft feathering of his lashes in the half-light. He decides he's done enough hiding for today and announces his presence by sounding out a C major.

Ack-Ack's entire face lights up like Christmas when he spots Eddie in the corner, which makes Eddie feel like he's just received a rifle butt to the sternum.

It has to show on his face or something, because suddenly the list is gone and his commanding officer is so close to his face that he can feel Ack-Ack's breath on his lips. He is ecstatic and terrified at the same time, and the combination worries him because his heart might just explode and wouldn't that be a truly stupid way to bite it? His mind flashes white and gray and slow, same as when he leads a charge except good because God, he is so happy with the proximity even though he's never been this scared in his entire life, which is saying something considering he's survived two campaigns at this point.

Ack-Ack watches him like he's trying to decipher something complex. It's a familiar expression, because the skipper wears it during the lulls in combat pretty much constantly since that's when he pours over the maps. Eddie's never thought he was anywhere near as complicated as a jap hill-fort, but apparently he's been selling himself short.

Ack-Ack's expression is gentle. "You cracking up on me, Eddie?"

Eddie shakes his head no. "No sir. I'm hiding."

Ack-Ack nods and puts his hand on Eddie's arm that way he does when he thinks Eddie needs fortifying. "We're all going crazy here. It's alright. But I need you operational."

"I do my best, sir," and there's a note of petulance in his voice that he's been trying so hard to avoid.

That draws a smile and a sigh out of the other man. "I know. I know, I count on it. I can't do this without you," he says, rubbing his hand up and down Eddie's arm. "I mean," he continues, taking the thought past whatever boundaries they'd both set up, "I don't want to do this without you. I won't make it out without you." The look in his eyes is so soft.

Eddie lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Ack-Ack takes Caroline out of his hands and he feels himself shake.

"Hey," Ack-Ack whispers, and the word ghosts over his mouth. "Hey."

"Is for horses," he completes by rote.

Ack-Ack laughs at him a little breathlessly and Eddie opens his mouth to catch the puff of air.

Then Andrew closes the gap and Eddie shorts out at the warm weight of him, in his arms and against his lips. Andrew's hand cups the back of his neck and Eddie winds his fingers into the other man's shirt, pulls him closer, tries to melt into him. The last person–girl–he kissed was a nameless Australian back in Melbourne. It didn't hold a candle to this he thinks idly, as Andrew takes his lower lip between his teeth. He kisses back like his life depends on it, because it does. Eddie's a straight shooter; he's not in the habit of lying to himself. He needs this man, and he loves him.

Caroline twangs as she bangs against a crate. He hopes she isn't jealous because there is no goddamn way in hell or the entire fucking PTO that he's ever going to stop doing this.

Andrew breaks away with a gulp of air, but Eddie thinks he's stopped needing to breath. He latches back onto the other man's mouth and Andrew laughs when their teeth click together. He brings his hands down to Eddie's waist and bunches up the fabric of his t-shirt. He seems younger all of a sudden, less like his Captain and more like the college idol he was once upon a time. Andrew pulls back again and rests their foreheads together, reaches up and lays a hand on Eddie's chest next to where his dog tags hang.

"Eddie," he whispers.

"I don't know what to call you," Eddie answers.

Andrew laughs softly and steps back. "I told you," he says. Eddie draws his eyebrows together. "You did?"

"Yeah. When I met your guitar."

Eddie gives him a blank look. "You introduced yourself to my guitar?"

Andrew shakes his head and slides his hand up to Eddie's left shoulder. "No, you introduced me to her. If I remember correctly, you were the lucid one during that conversation." His hand gravitates upwards until his fingers are stroking along Eddie's earlobe and down to his jaw. "My name's Andy. But only in supply tents."

Eddie can't resist that one. "What about in yours? Want me to call you Lu-Anne there?"

Andrew shakes his head at him. "You're hilarious," he responds, and cuffs Eddie on the back of the head. He retaliates by grabbing Andrew around the waist and pulling him near again.

A crab scuttles into the tent as he pushes his hands up under Andrew's shirt, and for the first time in several weeks, as his fingers skate over skin, Eddie doesn't feel the overwhelming urge to pack the fucking thing full of several tons of TNT.


End file.
